


Watch This

by loversandantiheroes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Bondage, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loversandantiheroes/pseuds/loversandantiheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So evidently there’s a smutwar going on.  And I was bored.  So yeah.  Have this.  Ruby/Gold, Season 1ish somewhere.  NC-17 and thoroughly nsfw.  Light bondage, voyeurism, dirty pictures, nearly-blackmail-but-not-quite, and masturbation.  Oh!  And harsh language.  *cough*  I really have no idea where I was going with this thing.  I don’t really write smut much…it kinda shows.  Inspired very vaguely by Bobby’s reading of Louise Welsh’s “The Cutting Room".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Give them to me, Gold!"

Gold blinked at the sudden burst of light into his shop as Ruby burst in, nearly popping the little door bell off its post, and slammed the door behind her.  He smiled mildly.

"And a fine good morning to you as well, Miss Lucas.  May I ask what ‘them’ you would be referring to and why you seem so certain that I have whatever they may be?"

She glared down at him, an easy feat perched on six inch stiletto heels, and swore.  "The fucking polaroids!" she hissed.  "They fell out of my pocket in the diner, I saw you pick them up on your way out."

Gold frowned, tapping his lips with a finger.  "Polaroids, Polaroids…ohhh, photographs, you mean?"  He smiled, gold teeth winking.  "Such an outdated medium, Miss Lucas."

His left hand snaked into his jacket - “You should really consider upgrading to digital," - and produced a digital camera.

"Did the polaroids look anything like this?"

Ruby blanched.

The camera’s small screen displayed a photograph of a photograph - a slightly white-washed color Polaroid.  Ruby reclined on a nondescript duvet, long legs stocking-clad and spread, ankles and wrists bound to the bedposts.  She was naked but for the stockings and the garter belt.  Dark hair spilled over the pillows in long waves.  Her head was turned, the flesh of her upper arm clamped in her teeth.  Her lipstick was smeared.

Gold flicked his thumb across the screen.

Another picture of a picture.  Ruby was crouched on her knees, her wrists bound together behind her and tethered to a single knob at the center of the headboard.  Her back was arched, arms stretched out as she strained against her bonds, head thrown back.  A shock of shaggy blonde hair and tanned shoulders were all that could be seen of the man beneath her as she struggled to press her sex tighter to his lips.

Flick.

Ruby was tied in the original position again, arms and legs akimbo, hips pulled upwards with the blonde youth on his knees between them.  One arm was wrapped tightly around her slim hips, raising her up, the other guided his rigid cock inside.

"You rotten bastard," she whispered.

"That’s a little harsh, dearie," Gold said, feigning hurt.  "I’m not the one who took the photos….well, not originally."  He grinned up at her.  "Who was the photographer, if I might ask?"

Ruby pretended she hadn’t heard him.  "What is you want, Gold?  You want more money out of us, is that it?"

Gold slipped the camera back into his jacket pocket, shaking his head.  "You misunderstand me, Miss Lucas.  What you and your grandmother pay me in rent is completely satisfactory.  I wouldn’t want to press you beyond your means."

Ruby searched his face for signs of a lie, saw nothing.  "I don’t understand.  What do you want, then?"

Gold teeth flashed in his shark’s smile.  "Step into my office."

He led her through the curtain to the back room, his pace a hypnotic sway-thump.  Shelves and cabinets lined the walls, cubbies and corners filled with bric-a-brac, things half-restored or half-forgotten.  He motioned her to a stiff-backed chair on the far side of his work table.  There had been no restoration jobs today, and the table was nearly bare.

Ruby sat, tugging at the hem of her skirt, suddenly mindful of it’s length.  It was ridiculous, really, he’d seen it all already, but she was now overly conscious of his gaze.

He eased into his own chair across from her and hung his cane on the edge of the table.  Sunlight spilled through the high window in clear beams, spotlighting the surface between them.  She was grateful to have the light between them, it’s warmth was calming, lessening the butterflies that had sprung to life in her stomach.  Motes swirled around Gold’s head as he regarded her.  The light seemed to change him.  In it his featured seemed less harsh, their planes and angles softened, a spark of golden light warmed his dark eyes.

Ruby fidgeted, fingers knotted in the hem of her skirt.  She’d always found Mr. Gold to be an attractive man, but she’d attributed it more to the air of nobility and power he gave off, a spark of predatory attraction.  Now, as he sat smiling at her quizzically in the broad sunshine, she was struck by how she could have missed how handsome he was.

She cleared her throat, sure she was blushing. “Well?" she croaked.

Gold folded his hands in his lap.  "I wanna know why."

"Why what?"

He pulled the camera out of his jacket and set it on the table.

"You want to know why I let a guy tie me up and fuck me?"

Gold laughed.  Ruby shivered at the sound.

"No dearie, I think that’s fairly self-explanatory."

She flushed crimson.  Had his eyes just flicked to her skirt?  "Then what?"

He tapped the plastic case of the camera with a well-manicured nail.  "I wanna know why you let that young lad tie you up and fuck you," her whole body flushed to hear that word come out of his mouth, “and why you let someone else photograph it."

She gawped.  "How did you know there was someone else?"

Gold waved it away, but his smile was indulgent.  "The camera angles are different.  If you’d had it set on a tripod with a delay they would be consistent.  Oh, and the second photo, where loverboy kisses you on more intimate lips.  There’s a bit of a blur in the bottom right.  Your photographer had his finger in the frame."

"Shit."

Wood creaked comfortably as Gold settled back in his chair.  "Why?" he asked again.

Ruby threw her hands up, exasperated.  "Why do you want to know?"

Gold shrugged.  "Call it curiosity.  The sex I get, but why the photographs?  Why the photographer?"

Ruby leaned forward, nearly blinding herself for a moment as the light struck her eyes.  "And if I tell you I get my photos back?"

Gold leveled his hands on the desk.  "Safe and sound."

She glanced at the digital camera.  "What about your copies."

"I’ll delete them in front of you."

"How do I know you don’t have other copies saved?" she pressed, suddenly feeling bold.  She almost hoped he did.  The thought that he might want to keep such photos of her for reasons other than blackmail struck matches to all sorts of nerves.

"I don’t."

She tried to contain her disappointment.  "You expect me to believe you?"

His expression hardened.  "Call me what you like, Miss Lucas, but I am a man of my word.  The only copies of your photographs exist on that camera," he tapped the plastic case again.  "I have no others saved, no photocopies, and I have not sent any salacious emails to your grandmother."

"And all you want to know is why?"

A nod.  "All I want to know is why."

Ruby sighed and rubbed her palms across her knees.  They were sweating.  "Because I like it," she said simply, fighting to hold his gaze, to not look away.  "I like it when people look at me.  I like knowing that while I was tied to that bed with that cute blonde’s head between my legs, the photographer was nursing a hard-on and wishing it was his head between my legs."

Her heart was thumping in her ears.  Gold’s gaze never wavered, his eyes never flicked away from hers, and she was suddenly desperate to have his eyes on the rest of her with the same intensity.  She wanted to strip away her clothes and stretch herself over the sunlit surface of his worktable and drink up the feeling of his eyes on her body.  She wanted his eyes on her as she cupped an eager hand over her sex, running her fingers through dark curls, pressing against her clit.  She wanted to see the outline of his rigid cock through his trousers and know it was hard for her.

Still his eyes held hers.

"I like to be watched," she said.  She let her knees part, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of her panties under her skirt.  Wishing his eyes would wander just a little bit.  "And I like knowing you’ve seen those pictures.  Knowing you’ve seen me like that."

Surprising herself with her own boldness, she popped the buttons on her blouse and let it fall open.  She wore no bra. “Did you like the photographs, Mr. Gold?  Did it turn you on to see me like that?  Tied up?"  She pushed her thighs open with her hands.  "Exposed?"  

He licked his lips, and she all but soaked her panties.  "Yes," he said simply.

Ruby leaned the chair back on two legs and hiked her skirt up.  "Did it make you hard?  Did it get your cock wet?" She hooked her fingers through her panties and pulled them up sharply, hissing a breath as the material gathered between the lips of her pussy.

"Oh yes," he said.

Ruby laughed and circled her clit with trembling fingers.  "Then just you watch this."

Finally his eyes dropped and Ruby moaned her appreciation.  One quick motion disposed of her panties and she was bare, his view of her work unobstructed.  Moaning and rocking in the creaking wooden chair, Ruby stroked herself as Gold watched.  His eyes lit her body on fire.  He drank in the view of her breasts and her nipples stiffened and tingled as though he had them in hand.  She arched up, curling two fingers into herself, and she cried out at the pleasure when his eyes followed.

Her head lolled back.  Her hand moved frantically.  Her hips bucked.  She moaned his name.

"Right here, dearie," he purred.

That was all she needed.  The chair crashed down on all four legs as her body shook with her spasm.  

Ears ringing, Ruby wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her legs together tightly.  She giggled, a low, giddy sound.

Smiling, Gold slid open one of the drawers of the desk and pulled out one of the Polaroids.  He held it up for her, laid it on the desk.  The second joined it.  Then the third.

Ruby’s breath came light and quick as Gold rose and plucked up the camera.  He sidled next to her, and she finally let her gaze drop.  Her eyes found the front of his trousers.  She sighed.  He was hard.

The camera swam into focus in front of her eyes as Gold deleted each photo.

"I am a man of my word, Miss Lucas," he said as she got to unsteady feet.  

She straightened her clothing, fumbled her blouse closed again, and slipped the polaroids into her pocket.  She gave him a sleepy, languid smile.  "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gold," she said, giggling.  Tottering to the door, she was nearly through the curtain when he called out.

"Miss Lucas?  Aren’t you forgetting something?"

Ruby turned.  Gold held his cane out to her.  A pair of red lace panties dangled from the end.

She grinned.  "Keep ‘em."


	2. Chapter 2

The door closed more gently this time, heralded with a faint ringing of the bell and a ghost of Ruby’s laughter as she left.  Gold eyed the keepsake at the end of his cane, a pair of lace knickers in a garish red, and smirked.

Well.  That had certainly been an interesting experience.  

Ruby’s anger had been expected - while Gold had no memory of meeting her as Rumpelstiltskin, he was by no means unaware of her (there had been a matter of the weaving of a certain cloak for Widow Lucas years before).  Her more physical reaction, however, had been a total, if not unpleasant surprise.

Gold snatched the lacy scrap of lingerie off his cane and felt his pulse lurch and quicken.  The flimsy cloth was still damp.  He limped back to his chair awkwardly, trousers feeling about three sizes too small.  Here was hell for you: trying to walk with a gimp leg and a hard-on that could knock down a brick wall.  Adjusting himself as best he could, Gold again eased himself into his seat.

As the curse’s original architect there was of course a great deal that Gold already knew about Storybrooke’s state of affairs.  The thing of it was, and this was something it had taken a few too many hard lessons to really learn: magic, dark magic particularly, was unpredictable.  Even explicitly stating your intentions to the letter you quite often found that magic would find a way to come round and bite you on the ass.  

Gold sighed, thinking, and absently squeezed his aching cock through his trousers, rubbing a thumb across the slicked material of Ruby’s panties with his other hand.

It boiled down to information, really.  It had been his stock and trade for centuries, countless deals made to award fleeting fame, too-brief love, or ill-gotten wealth all in exchange for a bit of knowledge on this thing or that person.  The Seer’s gift had shown him so much, and yet had left out so much.  He had glimpsed the Fates’ tapestry in its entirety, its surface shifting scenes and colors and textures where time and fate and freewill collided and created swirling patches that were impossible to predict.  It was those vague, ephemeral, ever-changing scenes that had set Rumpelstiltskin spinning his own webs to catch information and alter design to his own ends, and why not?  He was a spinner after all.

Three hundred years of memories had crashed into a mortal brain at the utterance of one name, and the need to gather information on his surroundings, a need to understand how the monster worked from within its belly was immediate.  He had thought if he could understand what precisely the curse had done to them, not just individually, but collectively, what drove these false masks the Queen had crafted for her loyal subjects, subverting the whole gods-be-damned thing should be the proverbial piece of piss.

And so when he had walked into the inn only a few weeks before as Mr. Gold and walked out as Rumpelstiltskin he had set to spinning again, and the first order of business, he decided, was to find out exactly what the curse did to those under it.  Some he already knew from his own experience, a murky haze of deja-vu and false memories, and it was the memories that sparked his curiosity.  

He had made a deal with the Queen on the cusp of the curse’s casting - from a cell they had honestly thought could hold him if he’d had any inclination to leave, the fools - for comfort, not to mention his own small safeguard against her machinations.  She had certainly come through on the comfort, his house was lavish, bank account impressive, but magic came with a price, and this time the price was to the Queen’s taste.  

And the Queen had wanted him alone.

The notion was somewhat laughable, she already knew he was alone.  She knew nothing of Baelfire, he had played that card too close to the chest for too long to have let such as her glimpse his hand, but she had known about Belle, had delivered news of her death with a hateful joy in her eyes and laughter in her voice.  He was already alone, everything he ever loved had been ripped from him long before the Queen had thrown her father’s heart in enchanted flame and brought them here.

And so Rumpelstiltskin had turned to leave the way Mr. Gold had come in and had locked eyes with Ruby Lucas and something had clicked.  Something whispered, _this one_.  Gold couldn’t quite pin down what it was, not yet anyway, but he had seen the photographs flutter to the faded linoleum of the diner and impulse had driven him to push the girl to react.  And react she had.

A groan escaped him, the memory of the leggy brunette with her head thrown back, cords standing out in her neck, flushed from her exposed breasts to the roots of her hair, fingers sliding rapidly in and out of her cunt, was still very fresh in his mind.  His cock throbbed, straining painfully against the zipper of his slacks.

Information, it seemed, could wait a few minutes longer.  With one hand he unbuckled his belt, pulled open his fly, and took himself in hand.  He lifted Ruby’s panties to his nose and inhaled her scent, growling low in the back of his throat.   _Did it make your cock wet?_ , she had asked him as she’d dragged the red lace across her clit.  Precum dripped in slow runners from the head of his cock down over his fingers.  

_Oh my dear, if you only knew._

Picking up a rhythm, he lifted her panties to his lips and ran out his tongue, tasting the salt-sweet of her on the fabric.  He moaned into them, gripping his cock tighter, pulling the foreskin back and dragging his knuckles over the sensitive stretch under the head.  He watched her again, playing the scene over and over in his head, watching her fingers part dark hair, her labia a pretty shade of coral pink and so very wet.  In his mind’s eye she came again and again as he worked to his own rapidly-approaching orgasm.

His nose was full of the smell of her pussy, her taste on his tongue, he thought of her walking back to the diner on unsteady legs, still wet and light-headed from her climax, thought of the photos, imagining himself in the place of the little blonde lover boy.  Surely the virility of his youth was behind him now, but he would bet money blondie couldn’t match three hundred years of experience.  

He pictured her stark naked, draped over his work table, his head buried between her thighs, sucking and nibbling at her clit, working his fingers into her, curling up, making her cry out.

He thought of her moaning out his name and suddenly he was there and it was now.  His balls tightened and he growled like a feral thing around a mouthful of lace, thrusting his cock into empty air as he came.

Gold slumped in his chair, panting harshly, an impossibly loud ringing in his ears.  He cracked an eye open and laughed.  Cum coated the back of his hand, dripping onto his trousers.  Three neat lines of the stuff striped the surface of the work table.  Gods, was that the first time in twenty-eight years he’d had a wank?

Still laughing, he fished out a handkerchief and started to clean himself up.

* * *

The rest of the business day proved fairly uneventful, save for a bit of a ruckus just before closing as Emma Swan, Mary Margaret, and the good Sheriff tore off past the shop front in what seemed to be a great hurry.  Customers had been few, Gold had spent the better part of the day cataloging the various magical artifacts housed in the storeroom (most of them inert and useless, but things could change), which was in truth going to take a good long while.

He was on his way out the door, counting his keys and checking that his little trophy was still bundled in his trouser pocket, when his foot connected with something and sent it sliding across the tiled floor.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, most of the lights had already been turned off, but finally he focused on a plain white envelope that had been discreetly slipped underneath the door.

Frowning, he stooped to retrieve it, grunting with the painful effort.  Written on the front in a neat, looping hand was written “Gold".

He turned out the contents into his hand.  A grin crept slowly across his lips.  It was one of the Polaroids  Ruby alone, sprawled out and tethered to the bed.  The thick white tab bore more of the same looping script:

_Wish You Were Here_

_Ruby xx_

Gold stared at it for a moment, cock twitching to life again, slipped the photo into his jacket pocket, and headed for home.  Things, it seemed, were going to get rather interesting.


End file.
